


Burden of Guilt

by devra



Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode Tag - Season 12 Lost Boys, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9964910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devra/pseuds/devra
Summary: The mirror reflected his guilt. With a trick of the fluorescent lighting and there was a splatter of Kate’s blood on his face… a shower of dust from the explosion that took Paula’s life. The failure of protecting Jenny.  Pacci. Danny. The failure of protecting them all—





	

Tony pushed open the door of the men’s room with such force his shoulder painfully caught the door’s rebound off the tiles. The agent who had been peacefully (and distractedly) washing his hands was startled out of his mental meanderings by Tony’s grand entrance. Something in Tony’s expression halted any concern on the agent’s part and he scurried around Tony without making eye contact.

 

“Fuck.” Tony’s voice echoed in the now empty washroom. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He lashed out, kicking the garbage can, sending it skittering across the floor, wobbling like a drunk before settling down. “Fuck.” The last curse didn’t have the force of anger but of soft, sad resignation.

 

He barely made it to the closest stall before losing his breakfast. Eyes closed, Tony flushed then stood, using the stall’s walls for support. Two deep breaths and he was composed enough to straighten his shoulders, smooth down his shirt and stride over to the sink.

 

He turned on the cold water, rinsed and spit then scrubbed his wet hands over his face, it wasn’t until they rested on the back of his neck, that he had the guts to face his reflection in the mirror.

 

“It could’ve been, Tim,” the devil on his shoulder whispered in Tony’s ear.

 

“It was Dorneget,” the angel’s voice countered. “Poor Dorney. Only child…”

 

The mirror reflected his guilt. With a trick of the fluorescent lighting and there was a splatter of Kate’s blood on his face… a shower of dust from the explosion that took Paula’s life. The failure of protecting Jenny. Pacci. Danny. The failure of protecting them all—

 

“DiNozzo!”

 

Two minutes, he had just wanted 120 seconds to mourn a fellow agent. A friend.

 

“If you’re done here—“

 

Tony gazed at his boss’ mirror image. “Two minutes, okay?”

 

“Clock’s ticking.”

 

His lips moved, forming the words ‘two minutes’.

 

Gibb’s demeanor overflowed with impatience. “Not doing any good here in the men’s room, DiNozzo.” He waved towards the mirror. “Staring at your reflection isn’t going to help us catch Agent Dornaget’s killers. I don’t believe any suspects are hiding in the stalls.”

 

Closing his eyes, he counted to ten. He could feel Gibbs’ gaze, hot and heavy, boring a hole into his back. When the anticipated head slap wasn’t delivered, Tony spoke. “I just wanted two minutes. That’s it. Two minutes. Alone.”

 

“Why? They’ll be more than enough time to pay respects to a fellow agent after we catch the killers.”

 

Obviously, his boss didn’t get the hint. Tony opened his eyes and spun on his heels. Gibbs wasn’t baiting him, his boss’ expression made it clear that he was clueless. What the fuck? “Because.”

 

“Not good enough, DiNozzo. If you want your two minutes you better damn well have a better explanation than ‘because’.”

 

“Because I’m tired of good people dying. I’m tired of people who I consider friends dying at the hands of people with fucked up agendas. I’m tired of wondering who’s going to be next… “

 

“Feel guilty that it wasn’t you?”

 

Tony gave a depreciating snort, “maybe.” He dropped his gaze to the floor. “This doesn’t get easier.”

 

“Never does.”

 

“I started to get complacent. Days go by. Then weeks. Then months—“ Tony cleared his throat. “And I began to believe that we’re really the super heroes Abby claimed we were. Leaping over buildings in a single bound. Catching the bad guys. And then something like this happens and I remember we’re not super heroes and it’s not kryptonite that takes us out but a gun. Or a bomb. Damn it, Gibbs—can I just have two minutes? Please?”

 

“One hundred twenty seconds, DiNozzo and not a second more.”

 

“Not a second more, boss.”

 

“I’m going to go get some coffee, by the time I get back your ass better be at your desk with some leads.” Gibbs grabbed the door handle but hesitated, squaring his shoulders before turning back to Tony. There was heartbreaking anguish in his expression.

 

“Boss?”

 

“You may feel guilty that it wasn’t you, but I don’t. A young agent who had amazing potential is dead and all I can do is thank God it wasn’t you. Or McGee. Or Bishop.” Gibbs swallowed audibly then tapped his watch. “You have about thirty more seconds, use your time wisely.” And he was gone with the whoosh of the door.

 

Tony took a deep breath, filled his lungs and with moments to spare he offered up a tiny prayer that all those agents and friends who had gone before would welcome Ned with open arms.

 

The end  


**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been lounging on my hard drive for a while and if it weren't for Annie's support, encouragement and friendship, it would still be there. Thank you, Annie, to an amazing beta and an even more amazing friend.


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